Senior Specificity

   Samaritan Hospital's New State-of-the-Art Emergency Department is scheduled to open Thursday, December 7, with a Sneak Preview on Monday, December 4.  The E.D. will be the first unit to open in the hospital's new five-story Heinrich Medicus Pavilion.
   Why such an imposing structure would be built vertically instead of on only one or two levels defies comprehension. Perhaps there is a dearth of real estate within the territory bounds specified by the late Dr. Medicus.  A few years ago, Dr. Medicus was present at the dedication of the Parking Garage, and he appeared pleased.  But drivers who have entered that garage know that it too lacks  access space, and multiple parking levels never appeal to patients or visitors. The publicity says there  is or will be free shuttle service on all floors of the garage, if you call a provided number.  That may help some.
    I don't know yet what will be on the other four floors of the Pavilion, but I understand the trend in the construction of educational or medical facilities is to avoid multiple levels.  Such facilities are required to have evacuation drills, in the event of natural or terroristic disasters. Clearing a ground floor is difficult at best, and levels above that pose even more of a challenge.  Elevators would be rendered unusable and descending multiple flights of stairs difficult for many. caretakers and patients alike.  {I just had the thought that this critique of stairways may be completely unfounded---maybe the upper levels have the ascending walkways, not the old-fashioned staircases.  I ought to attend Thursday's Sneak Preview before casting such aspersions. Stupid me.{
    Back to the new Emergency Department:   It's 4 times the size of the present ED, with 44 patient treatment spaces and 29 private rooms.  And---Wait for it---Six patient rooms designed specifically for "the unique needs of older adults."   Because the new Emergency Department is designed to be senior-friendly.  These senior rooms are geared toward addressing the senior's "special medical needs, preferences and physical comforts," for which the physicians and staff have received extensive education and training.
      Now this sounds all well and good, except what does it really mean? I know there is a new Pediatric Emergency Facility opened in Albany, and that makes sense: for example, all four-year-olds are pretty much the same size, so size-appropriate equipment would be helpful.  But what is there about Senior Citizens that would fit them all in one category.  And what are the "unique" needs of older adults? If  a need were truly unique, therefore by definition one of a kind, how would it be possible to classify that need by age?   One would hope that any patient's "special medical needs" would be addressed, regardless of how old they are. The same for "physical comforts."  For those who can't comfortably walk, assistive devices should be available as needed.  I don't know how their "preferences" would be managed. That's rather unfamiliar territory in any ER I've been aware of.
     I can picture this:  Senior Citizen enters the ER and is seated in a comfy arm chair, maybe the lift type.  Piped in music plays 50's tunes.  Peppermint tea may be offered (if not precluded by "special medical needs."  Said Senior knows he/she is in a designated-by-age room, knows that his providers there have been trained specifically to deal with this older population.  Does that make the patient  feel better about it?  OR OR OR -----
             Would adult  patients of whatever age, on entering an Emergency Room, expect to be evaluated for the condition that caused their  appearance there?  Never mind the patronizing and condescending approach based on age, which resulted in their being funneled  into a "special" room; figure out what's wrong and help them  to feel better.  Age discrimination is one more thing an ailing senior citizen doesn't need, even if the music of Lawrence Welk plays in the background.
****Reading what I wrote above, and realizing there are only 6 Senior Rooms out of 44 treatment spaces and 29 rooms, it seems likely that the number of Senior Citizens in the ER at most given times will very likely exceed 6, so maybe the choice would be up to the old patient, maybe by lottery....

Survey This

   Last week I was paid $65 cash for participating in an opinion  survey.  So now I just can't stop opining.

Money for the Bird(s)

     I learned from my F.U. visit that the good doctor, father of six young children, had his Thanksgiving dinner for 15 people, and served a 22-lb. turkey which he purchased at $.39 per lb. So on the way home, I felt compelled to stop at SNS to see if they had any left at that price.  They had about half a dozen left, so I bought one. It weighs about 15 lbs. and cost $6.00.  It is presently taking up most of my freezer space, so we know what's for dinner at Christmas time.  A pared-down version of traditional turkey dinner though, minus all the frills.  Just roast turkey and lemon meringue pie.

Rue

   Yesterday's appointment confirmed what I'd already known, as per the availability of the omniscient patient portal, that the procedure had been not necessary and based on machine readouts that can only be shrugged off.  Had it not been for the looming shadow of prior events, I almost certainly would have at least delayed the procedure, but sometimes time is of the essence.  Or so they say.  But not having bad news delivered is reason enough to accept what has occurred in good nature, at least for now.
   Home from my trip, all in vain, I opened the newspaper to read that the monolithic St. Peter's Health Partners is seeking smaller monetary gifts as supplementary funding to the Medicus millions which will allow the new Pavilion to open next month. I'm no architect, but why they're building that monstrous complex in the structurally confined geographic area of Samaritan Hospital is beyond comprehension, perhaps explainable by such designation of the late Heinrich Medicus.  I mean, the present "old" building is deemed outdated anyway, and will probably become even more obsolete.
     While we wish for the success of a state of the art medical facility here in the Troy area, I can only cite the shortcomings of the  accompanying Parking Garage, dedicated in 2015 in the presence of Heinrich Medicus, the picture of such dedication accompanying the today's newspaper article:
                The Parking Garage is a monstrosity. Though it's abundantly used, no one prefers to park there, even though parking is free---at least for now. I have parked there about 5 times, and 3 of those times I've hit the curb with my rear tire on the passenger side. Drivers proceed up an incline, through an unusually narrow access lane, and then take a hard right past a now-unseeable jutting-out curb. On my way out of the garage, I've checked, and the end of the entry curb is marked and worn off with the remnants of rubber from unlucky tires. Once into the garage, you drive until you see a space.  Not there, that's a bank of Physicians Only, probably about a dozen or so.  And this day, all are empty. so, keep looking. Aha, you pull in, but then on the wall ahead of you a small sign saying Physicians Only, this time at a single space, tucked in among general parking. Repeat the process, only to see a Volunteers Only sign discreetly placed as to be visible only after you pull into the slot.Repeat this search.  Once you park, you step out into a gray and dim area, isolated except for the cars passing by where you are standing, trying to figure  where you need to go and how you can find your car after you return .
   The alternative to the Parking Garage is street parking, where you're not likely to ever find a space since that is where the hospital staff prefers to park and they arrive very early and stay for their shift.  I have asked several (though no physicians), and, without exception, each said they parked on the street. There remains the limited number of parking spaces next door in the Cardiology lot, a practice separate from St. Peter's, and the dwindling parking lot between the Cardiology office and the Parking Garage.  There you will find the lurkers. Their vehicles hang out in any available space, waiting, hoping, for some patient departure. AARP has provided hints that someone leaves a parking space every 22 minutes, so there's hope.  Anything but the Parking Garage. These lurking vehicles tend to back up rather suddenly and jump forward too, as the drivers sense an opening.  My wish would be to require the smiling group of officials honoring the opening of the garage to park their cars in the garage a time or two, before ballyhooing it as a wonderment.
   
     Near the end of a longish day, I listened to The Voice, while checking various sites at the computer. From my non-professional assessment, all the finalists sounded good. When that program segued into what was billed as a Christmas special, I decided to watch from the larger bed, and tucked myself in that bedroom, planning to try to lull myself to sleep listening to nice seasonal music. I don't even care about the picture on this smallish TV screen, just the music. I look and think the background looks garish and a bit bawdy, but as I said, just the music please.  I lie back trying to put together the happenings of the day, and hear ----oh, lordy----Pentatonix. Singing Christmas songs.  And a guest appearance by the winner of this year's America's Got Talent, the girl ventriloquist, now singing Christmas songs. Talented maybe, Annoying, definitely.
     I hang on, through the dismal news, waiting for Jimmy Fallon to deliver a few laughs. Opening is a simply dreadful interview with a sham second-line pageant contestant which mercifully is soon over.  Then he announces the night's celebrity guest is Martin Short.   NOOOOOOO!

Avieshidy

 "A-vy-sha-die" I was too young to know how to spell it, but I used to think this was a real word, because my mother taught it to me.  Way back in rented housing, before lights or heat or much of anything at all.  She would tuck us in at night, and listen to the three of us, one after the other, as  we repeated the words of the prayers she had taught us. 
    Simple prayers at first, for sure, and I was happy to feel I'd gotten it right.  "Now I lay me down to sleep" is much more comforting if you don't have to consider the fact you may die that night instead of  waking up next morning. 
    It's early Thanksgiving morning and I'm going back to bed, and hopefully to sleep.  But, "Avishedye before I wake,"  know that the turkey has been in the oven since 5:25 this morning, and will probably be done about 5 hours from then. 

Half C. of T'Giving Turkeys

      Well, it looks like we'll make it, in some manner or other.  Tomorrow marks #50 of the Thanksgiving turkeys I have cooked.  We've had those turkey dinners in our apartment in Schaghticoke, in my mother's house, my daughter's house, and in the house we've lived in for all but one of the turkey years.  Though we've had a Thanksgiving dinner in other venues, my in-law's home, and several restaurants where family gathered, I have cooked a Thanksgiving turkey every single year since we were married, even though the turkey may have been transported to another home.
      This year's PLAINVILLE FRESH TURKEY weighs  21.96 lbs., and holds the distinction of being not the largest but at $2.49 per lb., the priciest of all his fellow turkeys, with total price of $54.68.  He was "humanely raised" so that may have contributed to the price, but probably more likely is that he is a product of Price Chopper's MARKET BISTRO  in Latham.  We had a Plainville turkey back in 2004, at .89 per lb. but it didn't have a fancy address. I seem to remember another family member paying $80 for a turkey several years back, amidst unfounded rumors that it was not  a turkey, but an eagle.  It was from the North Country and it did have long legs, but that doesn't qualify as an eagle. 
    The preceding 49 turkeys I've cooked have all been successes. I hope this one follows in their tracks.  I keep hearing different TV accounts of how to keep your turkey from drying out.  That seems to be a big problem.  Personally I don't know how that even happens.  Just put it in the oven at 325-350 degrees and cook it until it's done.  True, I'd rather eat overdone turkey than underdone, and some of the turkeys that are carved on the TV shows are reddish pink near the bones. In that case, I'd stick with the stuffing and veggies.
   

FB

I'd kill 'em, I would.

Trump Check

   Observe and you will see.  He doesn't turn his head on the stalk of his neck. He moves his body from the shoulders to look sideways.  That may be his least toxic critique.

That First Noncastable Stone

    We all know that nobody is perfect and everybody is guilty of sin.  But Charley?  Ryan?
     What should be worthy of investigation is the contention that while women may have been considered the weaker sex and therefore susceptible to be preyed upon by men, women as a gender are just as likely to succumb to some temptation or other, and so also be guilty of sin. Women who hold power may  prey upon underlings in a sexual manner.
     Women are coming forth now in legion. Their stifled voices are now being heard. Heretofore, the women were ashamed to have been objectified and so kept quiet, 
      We have not yet heard much from the men. Could it be because abused men have even more shame about going public with their complaints.  Besides feeling violated and used, they have to consider  that filing a complaint about sexual abuse carries the inference of lack of masculinity.  The double standard flips again,
    While I am all too familiar with the conditions of abuse outlined in the ME TOO charges, I am certain I have never been the perpetrator of such. But since we're on the subject of abuse, let me clear my conscience via my Blog Confessor and admit this: 
          Way back in the early days of my career, before there were any policies forbidding corporal punishment, I recall slapping 2 students.  I slapped a seventh-grader by reflex when he came up to my desk and yelled into my ear. He was a nice kid and I still regret seeing the red mark on his cheek.  The other student I slapped was a little s*#t who  deserved it.

Long Ago and Far Away

    It was a long time ago, back when I was single and popular enough to be asked to join a group of my co-workers on a trip to New Orleans at Mardi Gras time.  There were to be 4 of us at final count: one potential traveler was engaged to be married  and decided she couldn't afford the trip, financially or romantically. So the 5th traveler was lost.   Plans were made early in the school year, the primary organizer an energetic and capable exchange teacher from England, quite a wonderfully appealing personality all around. 
    It was still early in the year and so I agreed. The trip sounded like fun, and I could certainly afford it, but secretly I hated the thought of flying, which was new to me, but ever since I'd seen  the John Wayne movie, "The High and the Mighty," some years earlier, the thought of being trapped in what seemed to be a doomed airplane filled me with dread.  I joined in the discussions about the trip, but I secretly planned to drop out as the time approached. The other 3 would be plenty of company.  But then, Christmas came and one of the would-be travelers was given an engagement ring for Christmas and withdrew from the trip, both to save for wedding expenses and to appease the now fiancee. (She was to regret it, then and years later because the marriage did not last, and the memories of the trip were enjoyed for many years.  I'm not much of a traveler, but that was the best vacation I've ever had.)
    Anyway, no one wanted to hear about anyone else dropping out. Two people were not enough of a party.  They needed me.  I waited to tell them, fully planning to break the news at some appropriate time.  But somehow that time never came, and one February day, I found myself in a car headed for the airport in New York.  I remember feeling almost in a state of shock: I never decided to go, didn't know how it happened that I was headed to New Orleans, but it was happening.
   Sometimes those things happen, I've learned.  Almost as if they take on a life of their own, and you have lost, or ceded, control. I've pretty much always relied on myself to make my own decisions. But it's also true that once you take the first step in a process, momentum gathers, and Voila! You're rolled along like a stone stuck in a snowball. 
 
 

Sometimes this happens---don't know why

I don't want the Los Angeles Traffic Report to appear on my TV screen, but every once in a while it does so.  And I have to  turn the TV off to exit the screen.  (I used to think it was a signal from David's cell phone, as it often appeared just before he called.  But now, it's a total mystery. Contact NSA.

Precipitation

Whatever it is.

Most Mundane of Dreams

   The instructor didn't ask for the answer exactly.  She said if you know the answer, raise your hand. I knew the answer so I raised my hand, not to answer the question, but just to comply.  So she called on me, by name, to answer the question she'd asked. By now, I'd forgotten what the question was. She would not repeat it, but waited for me to answer.  "Geneva," I said. She said no, that was the "wrong answer" I'd already given. So I amended my answer to what I'd meant to say in the first place, and answered "Geneseo." That was correct.
  ***It's 3:48 A.M. and I'm just learning the Election results.  I meant to watch them last night, but, trying to filter out the election returns while avoiding the most horrible of news stories, I fell asleep. The returns I'm viewing now are also rather horrible. So I guess I'll just stay awake until it's time to go to my appointment,  a horror story in itself.

Wish Book is back!

   I just saw an announcement that Sears Wish Book is back.  Online though, so that pours water on the memories.  Back in the day, the true advent of the Christmas Season started the day  the mailman brought our copy of the Wish Book.
   What followed was hours of searching the pages, with pencil in hand. By the end of November, most of the toys were circled for Santa to bring, for Santa did read the Wish Book.  Everybody did.

1970's Styling

Check out the "big hair" on the chick in the green jacket.  Not to mention the Mini-Skirt.

Rule made to be broken:

     The beds in the house have always been off limits to furry creatures. The sofas are allowed as is the non-leather chair, and that compact has never been broken.  Until one day last week when I went into the bedroom and saw-----

Obsolete Memory Storage

  If I could only delete unneeded stuff that's stored in my memory, that should open up a space to store current information, shouldn't it? For instance, I have absolutely no reason to know  that my college Student Number was 21293.  That  was once a vital identification number, used on every reference to academic performance, but that was a very long time ago. I have no reason to be able to recall that the first license plate on my father's car that I was able to read was 7A-3535. I'm not even sure of the license plate number on the car I drive now. If I could just substitute one for the other.  And  I know that my sister's first telephone number when she married and left home was 235-3299.  That was the first number listed in the Telephone Directory after she moved and had a new number.  It belonged to AAA Ace Services or something like that.

Inane use of perfectly good words:

1) "Throw in"----   From recipe usage of "throwing in" the mixing bowl each ingredient and then taking that mixture and "throwing it in" the oven;  to filling your own child's lunchbox by "throwing in " those  healthy offerings and  snack items.  Not to mention taking your own children and "throwing" them into your car, etc.
2) "Grab"-------I just heard an announcement of how to "Grab your clothing purchases."  Everything is "grabbed" on the Shopping Networks from soup to nuts, (not to be taken in any offensive way.) Sure, you might grab a coffee on your way to work. But just listen and you'll hear that everything is now being "grabbed," and what's the big rush?